Brother
by Forgotten Coffee
Summary: Fenrys has Connal to call 'brother' but what if there was someone else, someone lost to the depths of memory? A brother in all but blood? Rhys receives a message carrying a call to arms, written by the brother long thought dead. Loyalties are tested, and Rhys's life will be changed forever. UNDERGOING REWRITING AS OF AUGUST 2020
1. Until We Meet Again

**A/N: Hello, friends! So, I'm just letting you know that this story is undergoing severe editing and is being mostly rewritten as of August 2020. My goal is to finish the re-writing and start publishing new chapters by Sep 12**.

Feel free to re-read the updated chapters if you've been with me since the start of this story (if you have then thank you), as they'll have enough new content to change the story-line slightly.

This is my first story on the website so please read & review! Reviews are my lifeblood. Constructive criticism is welcomed but no flames please. If you don't like it don't read it, that simple.

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**Time/Setting:** Throne of Glass POVS are set in Empire of Storms when they are on the boat (before Aelin is taken). ACOTAR POVS are set several decades (or something) after the final book and the novella doesn't exist in my mind because suck it, canon.

**Disclaimer:** I am not (Queen) Sarah J Maas, as much as I wish I was. I do not own ACOTAR and/or Throne of Glass. I only own the story idea and any characters you don't recognise.

**Trigger Warnings:** For this chapter? Not really anything. Minor flashbacks? Sorta? Also there's going to be a side storyline of Freye's pregnancy so if you find that weird then yeh.

**Notes: **Italics are used either for flashbacks or for when Freye and Rhys are talking through the bond, hopefully it's clear enough to tell which is which but let me know if it isn't :)

**Without further ado...**

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**\- - RHYSAND - -**

Rhysand, Lord of the Night Court and perhaps one of the most powerful beings currently in existence, cursed. In his battle-scarred hands, that damming letter shook ever so slightly. 20 years. He had been given 20 years of peace with Feyre, barely a ripple in his immortal lifespan.

_'Where-ever you are, brother, I will always find you.'_

A promise from a lifetime ago, it had never weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

_"I will always find you." Rhysand's face was streaked with tears as he held his brother - in all but blood - tightly. "And I you. Oh Rhys… take care of yourself. Try and get that Cassian boy on your side." Rhysand flinched._

_"Goodbye, brother."_

_"No, Rhys. Not goodbye. Until we meet again."_

The letter continued to shake. Dead - his brother was dead - or so Rhys had thought. He had never been to Pyrathian. Had never permitted anyone to go to the land of the Fae- their distant kin. So really, he had nothing to go by that said the letter he held in his hand wasn't from Aelin Galathyinious, Assassin Queen of his brother's land. Nothing to go by that said his brother wasn't waiting for Rhys to come, with Cassian and Azriel and Mor, to the aid of his long lost brother and the queen who's reputation had reached even Velaris. But he couldn't. Not when Feyre's stomach grew larger every when he could soon call himself a father. Rhys closed his eyes. His voice, as quiet as the first snowfall had been the night before, felt loud and cruel to his ears.

"Goodbye, brother."

The letter burned to a crisp, before floating away on a phantom wind.

Cassian's voice echoed throughout the house, grumbling about the lack of food. The Illyrian had just returned from one of the still rebellious war camps, and after hours of flying through the bitter winds, Rhys didn't blame him if he wasn't in the best of moods. Heading downstairs, Rhys banished all thoughts of the letter from his mind. Maybe it made him as selfish as Tamlin, but he just really didn't want to go to war again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Rhysand arrived just in time to see Cassian near dash to the kitchen, where Elaine was no doubt cooking something that would be good enough that Cassian would propose to the food. Again. At the memory, Rhysand smiled. His mate's contentment shone though the bond. Feyre was with child… he couldn't leave her, even for his brother. And either way, Mor, Azriel and Cassian had been with him since the day 'Lord' appeared before his name. Before that. They were his friends. His family. His court. They had been though more than one war together, but if he asked them to come, to fight in yet another, he would have to explain certain things. And that was one thing he might never be able to do.

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**\- - FREYE - - **

Feyre's back hurt. Only nine weeks, and already her stomach was big enough to cause discomfort. Thankfully, it was still easy enough to hide. Only she Mor, and her mate knew as yet. Azriel probably did too. But he was Azriel. He knew everything. Feyre still wasn't entirely certain why she kept it a secret from Cassian and her friends at the paint store - she knew nothing would change if she told them. But it was all still such a novelty, the words foreign in her mouth. As she walked home, an easel under one arm and the other keeping her swollen belly from the biting wind that she didn't quite feel like blocking, Feyre felt Rhy's distress down the bond.

_Are you okay?_ His answer came immediately.

_Yes, fine. Some stubborn Illayians are still giving Cass trouble about their wives learning to fight. Nothing he can't handle._

_Whatever you say._

_How was painting?_ Feyre didn't miss his subtle change in topic, but she knew that her mate would tell her if anything was truly wrong. _Fine. Harriet wasn't there today, so we broke into the fancy paints._

_Will I have to find space on some wall for your newest masterpiece?_

_Yes._ At her candid answer, Rhysand's amusement floated down the bond.

_Feyre darling... I'll see you at home._

Feyre came to a stop at a long light-post that stood exactly halfway across the bridge that spanned the river. Something about the solitary watch kept by the warm lamp stirred something in her. A memory that could have been a dream.

_Nesta squealed as Elaine and Feyre ran after her. They were all thoroughly soaked, but none of them cared as they splashed through the puddles that only a summer rain could create. Still chasing her sisters through the street Feyre looked up for the briefest of moments. They were on a bridge, and right in the middle stood a bright lantern, the candle inside braving the rain. The image burned itself into her mind. It meant something. She knew it. Maybe not now, but later, it would mean something. But Feyre was eight, too young to think of the future to know a sign when she saw one. The lamp once again a lowly lamp, Feyre ran ahead to her sisters._

Feyre staggered slightly, gasping. She was in Velaris once more, standing in the cold staring up at a lamppost. Shaking her head ruefully, she continued back to the manor, chalking the flashback up to the cold.

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**A/N: So, that's it for this chapter. Kinda short I know, I'm gonna be posting longer chapters as soon as I have time. Don't forget to leave a review! Constructive criticism or even just a friendly comment is welcomed, and if you have any ideas for where you want the story to go I'd love to hear them and I'll do my best to reply. **

**\- Coffee -**


	2. Family (There To Stay)

**A/N: Hello, friends! I'm back with more (well, technically its the same amount, just reformatted, but whatever).**

**Disclaimer:** I am not (Queen) Sarah J Maas, as much as I wish I was. I do not own ACOTAR and/or Throne of Glass. I only own the story idea and any characters you don't recognise.

**Trigger Warnings:** actually nothing (that's going to change quickly my friends)

**Notes: **Thanks to feyregalathynius3000 for the review; honestly I lowkey think that might end up happening, his expression would be legit lmao ;)) but only time will tell - I roughly have the barest bones of this fic plotted out but most of it is just coming out of my [slightly deranged] mind.

**Without further ado...**

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**\- - RHYSAND - -**

Rhys decided the next day that it was time for Feyre to visit Nesta. Or, really, he had decided while lying awake though-out the night, the damming and calling words written in a letter he had never wanted branded across his eyelids. Think - he needed time to think. He would never call his mate a distraction, but in this matter, this matter about which she couldn't possibly know … she really was. And besides, Cassian was back, and although they all knew Feyre could handle herself, it gave the Illyrian an excuse to escort Feyre to Nesta's apartment. The chances were slim of it coming to anything, but when it came to Cassian and Nesta, even nothing was something.

Rhysand knew that he would have to be careful about how he went about suggesting it. Feyre and Elaine had gradually rebuilt their relationship over the years, but she and Nesta… something had changed between them early on. Still, Feyre made the effort. With lots of convincing. But, as Rhys made his way downstairs to the kitchen, he found no Elaine; Feyre was gone as well. Elaine rarely left the manor, and whenever she and Feyre went out together it was usually to visit their sister. Satisfied that he hadn't even needed to ask, and that Feyre was finally getting over whatever had happened between her and Nesta, Rhys took to the skies, shielding himself from the raging winds.

_I will always find you, brother._

_And I you._

No. No. He had burned the letter, the plea it contained. It didn't exist anymore. He wouldn't go. He had a new family, new brothers. A mate. A court. And soon, a child. He couldn't go to war on a promise made centuries ago. If the Assassin Queen was a high and mighty as rumour said, then his brother would be just fine. Rhysand wouldn't go. He couldn't go. But something deep inside, something that hadn't been anything at all since the day he had decided his brother was dead, it awoke. And strained towards Pyrathian.

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**\- - FEYRE - -**

Feyre hated her hair. She used to like it, but now, surrounded by all manners of creatures and people in their respective beauty, her hair felt inferior. Human. What would she give to have Rhysand's midnight blue/black, or Harriet's white blonde. White blonde sounded pretty. Midnight blue/black sounded magical. But her hair was dirty blonde. Who wanted to have hair called dirty blonde? Feyre laughed to herself quietly. She had always been both vain and beyond caring. Mostly the latter, except for when it came to her hair. But now… now wasn't the time to think of herself. She had far bigger problems to contend with. Such as when to tell her sisters she was pregnant. She and Elaine meandered, looking at shops more than walking, over to the part of town where Nesta lived. Cassian had, of course, offered to keep her company on the way there, but, as much as she felt for him when it came to Nesta, Feyre just didn't feel like being with anyone but her sister.

Dusk was falling by the time they, laughing at their own slowness, finished the 5 kilometre walk to Nesta's apartment. Nesta opened the door, looking both disappointed and wearily amused. "Well, if it isn't the people who said they would be here for breakfast. Which - I'm not sure if you know this - is in the morning." Feyre opened her mouth to say something - she wasn't quite sure what yet - but Elaine beat her to it. "Sorry, Nesta. But there are still some shops we didn't go into. Come on!" And so saying, Elaine, in a brief spark of wildness and joy, grabbed both their hands and dragged them back into the mystical realm of shopping for fun.

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**A/N: I'm going to be adding more length to these chapters soon, bare with me until then. Please read and review! Tell me what you think! This is very different from my usual writing style so any ideas, comments, whatever you want to give would be great. Toodles for now xx**

**\- Coffee - **


	3. 5 Rhys

**Hello, friends! I'm sorry for not posting lately, but exams are killing me. This is the shortest the chapters will ever get and the ACOTAR part is coming soon. **

**Disclaimer: I'm not Sarah J Maas and I do not own either TOG or ACOTAR**

**Without further ado...**

Rhys had always solved the most perplexing of personal dilemmas while flying. Right before he had decided to answer Feyre's plea to be rescued from a marriage with Tamlin, he had taken to the airs. Just as he had done before being crowned High Lord. Something about the way the air stung his eyes and the way everything seemed so small from the clouds calmed him. Cleared his mind. And now was no different as he soared over the city and into the mountains, raging at himself and the hand he had been dealt. Before Under the Mountain, before Feyre and Hybern and everything else, Rhys would have gone. Fulfilled his ancient promise, and answered the plea. But now, with Feyre expecting and the last war still settling down, now… he couldn't go. Even if a piece of his magic, of his very soul, that had long slumbered, was now awake; and, even more unnerving was the fact that his magic yearned north. North towards Pyrathian, and north towards his brother. Maybe he should go. He could bear it, leaving Velaris for war once again. And yet, _the baby._

**So. Sorry again for the length. Ta Ta For Now!**


	4. 6 Feyre

**Hello, friends! The updates are going to come much more quickly now as I've written the next few chapters. Anyway. Imma gonna make this snappy:**

**I am not Sarah J Maas and I do not own any of the books or characters mentioned here.**

**Without further ado...**

Weary but filled with joy, Feyre stumbled back into Nesta's apartment, her sisters at her heels. It was fully dark now, and although Feyre was as happy as she'd been all month, something had felt off since last night, something she had felt through the mating bond. Rhys had seemed distant at dinner the night before, though he had tried to hide it. But there were no secrets between the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. If anything was wrong, he would tell her.

Elaine, after a few seconds of tough mental debate, decided to stay on the couch for the night, rather than brave the biting winds, waving away Feyre's offer of keeping the air warm. So as Feyre walked alone through the bitter night, the stars watching over her from their thrones in the heavens, she did not feel at all strange as she opened her mouth and sang.

It was not a beautiful song, nor did Feyre have a beautiful voice. She just felt like singing. The old lullaby flowed from her tongue as if she had sung it a thousand times; the opposite was true. It was a song forbidden by her father - a song sung by rebels.

_Dark the night and bright the moon,_

_Bright the sun and dark the mood._

_In a land, far from ours,_

_rule 7 High Lords of their courts…_

_But here, in our land, _

_far from the Fairies and their Lords_

_We sing this song to praise and fear_

_not the Lords, and not the Fairies, _

_but the nightly kingdom of Terrasen._

_Far from home, _

_In a land of pine and snow_

_Rule the family of Terrasen._

_Aelin, the young daughter, _

_Sing your praise for her fire-power._

_And for her father, the mighty Galan - _

There was more to the song, more that Feyre couldn't remember. She didn't know why she had sung it in the first place. It was a song only mortals knew, and right now, on the snow padded street in Velaris, Feyre felt far from mortal.

It was nearly dawn when Feyre quietly let herself into the manor. There was a light on, leaking through the shut door to the kitchen. Curious, she walked towards the door and listened for any noises, thankful for her Fae senses, which, although she had been Fae for as long as she had been human, she still wasn't completely used to. Almost immediately, she became aware of a quiet sniffling, accompanying Rhy's scent.

Feyre almost stumbled back in shock. In the decades she had known Rhys, her mate had only cried twice. Both times were after something had happened, something… Freye pushed the door open.

It was dark in the room - the light that had leaked into the kitchen came from a Fae-light bobbing around her mate's head. Taking care to pull the chair out further than she usually did to allow for her nothing-but-cumbersome-but-still-precious stomach, Freye sat down next to Rhysand - he didn't move, keeping his tear streaked face in his hands. She sat there quietly next to him, not touching and not speaking. Just… being there for him, in whatever way he might need it. The hours ticked by and it was only her Fae senses that kept her from fidgeting, from losing patience. Eventually, Rhysand stirred, lifting his head and kissing her in a desperate, longing kiss. It ended far too quickly. "Freye. Freye darling. You should get some rest". His voice was hoarse. Freye didn't budge.

**I sincerely apologise for the terrible song. I never said I had any type of musical talent.**


	5. 7 Rhys

**Hello, friends! Sorry for not updating recently. **

**The usual disclaimer: I am not Sarah J Maas and I do not own any of the series or characters mentioned here. **

**Without further ado...**

Rhys's plea for her to go was very unconvincing. Freye didn't move. _Well, she certainly isn't going anywhere, so I might as well tell her. _

"Freye darling… you have to understand. When I… you know about how I met Cassian and Azriel, right?" A nod. "Well, you have to - I mean - I - I had a brother. Not by blood but by soul. Almost as I am with Cass and Azriel, but more so. We met when we were barely a month old. Our mothers must have known each other. Anyway, he tried to strangle me upon our first meeting. As I recall, we were fighting over a cookie." Freye smiled at that. I did too, at the memory, but quickly sobered. This was hard. Silver hell, this was hard. Rhys hadn't spoken of these things for centuries. Only Mor knew. He couldn't go back now though. If he ended the story before the story ended, Freye would hound him until he gave. Rhysand hung his head in his hands once again and continued talking, trying to remember to breathe around the tightening now in his chest.

"I don't know how, or why, but we grew up together. He was always the fighter, and I was the thinker. He charmed the ladies, and I sent them fleeing. Yes, Freye. I once was a gangly awkward immortal. Well, I'm still immortal, but…" He was rambling. _Hell, Rhys, get yourself together._ "Sorry. Anyway, we were the same age, but my brother was in every way, older. He stood up for me, fought for me, charmed girls - not for me - and protected me. Then, one day in early August, he left to go to a distant land. I had lost my brother. After a few hundred years, I thought him dead.

"That is, until this morning, when I received a letter from him, asking me to come to his - and his new Queens' - aid. But- Freye, I'm not going to go, with the the last war still coming to a close, and with the child, and you, and Velaris, and -" Rhys put his head in his hands. This was all too much, too soon. He took a deep breath. "I'm not going. I can't. Freye darling, I'm sorry I haven't told you about him sooner. I know it has been a long time, but I - I still miss him, Freye. And nobody - well, until now - nobody knew about him. You must think me weak." Rhys trailed off, uncertainly worming its way through him. He didn't know why he was acting like this around Freye. Freye, his _mate_.

_His mate. _

His wonderful mate, who did nothing but sit there with him, a compassionate hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. His wonderful mate, who did not judge his weakness for his brother. Did not ask to see the letter that was burned to a crisp anyway. His darling Freye, who only asked one question: "Rhys… your brother. What was - what is - his name?" Rhysand didn't fail to catch the slip.

"Fenrys. His name is Fenrys Moonbeam."

**And off we go... Fenrys POV, coming up!**


	6. 8 Fenrys

**Happy New Year! 2020... wow. Anyways...**

**Hello, friends! Disclaimer, I don't own these characters, yada yada yada...**

**The italics at the start represent Fenrys' dream (FYI). Okie here's Fenrys for ya.**

_Fenrys ran. Connal ran. Maeve pursued. _

_Panting. Shifting, using the ability Connal had gotten from the Stygian spider for them both. Looking back. Maeve was coming. Connal was shifting, back and forth, Fae and Beast. But Connal was falling. Fenrys was falling. _

_The world was burning. _

_Then, the Valg Queen's pale hand reaching, more a figment of fear than real life, and the world blackened; Fenrys had never seen such dark. His lungs convulsing, his entire being spinning into thin air, Fenrys stumbled as he landed several meters ahead of where he had been, with no sense of having moved. Stomach heaving, wanting to lay down and never get back up, Fenrys stumbled on, grateful of the small advantage it gave him over the brute's chasing him. But Connal… Connal had fallen. Connal was being torn apart by Maeve's beasts. Connal was dead, and so was he. _

Fenrys bolted upright, breathing hard. Sighing, the warrior collapsed back onto the sweat-soaked sheets.

The nightmares came daily. Sometimes, Connal called him a traitor, a whore, a monster. Sometimes Maeve got him. Sometimes Maeve took Fenrys in his place. But always, they were running, and Maeve was chasing. It no longer bothered him that he could not sleep though the night; there was nothing to be done about it, unless he wanted to risk taking a sleeping tonic and leaving him helpless. Knowing that he would not be able to sleep for at least several hours, his mind still in the dream, Fenrys got up and prowled to the top of the deck. A cool night breeze brushed his neck; whether or not it was of Whitethorn's doing, Fenrys welcomed it. The midnight blue sky, a velvet curtain with diamond stars sprinkled across it, brought to mind Fenrys' brother, Connal. No, not Connal… someone else. Someone he had forgotten. Someone he would not allow himself to remember. Someone from Before.

Fenrys didn't know how long he stood at the rail, listening to the roar of the waves and staring at the sky, quelling every thought that would being back memories. Eventually, he became aware of a light still burning in Aelin's room. Knowing that the heir of fire was most likely making the most of what could be her last few days with Whitethorn, Fenrys ignored the light, until his Fae senses picked up on Lysandra's voice coming through the door. Curious, Fenrys stepped closer. He had barely moved in the direction of the door before it swung open. Aelin stood there, wearing nothing but a dressing gown. Behind her, Lysandra stood hunched over a desk. "Don't just stand there gaping, you great old hunk of muscle. In." Her voice was tired, something Fenrys knew she didn't usually allow. Wordless, Fenrys came in to the small room. The cot that had been intended for Aelin had been pushed to the side (she had chosen to stay with Rowan in his cot. As if anything else was even thinkable. Fenrys had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the time at the look the two had exchanged) and the room was occupied with a large table heaped with maps and clearly discarded pieces of paper. In the one corner of the table that had been cleared of paper, Lysandra sat, writing what looked to be a letter in feminine, elegant script.

The words that then came out of Aelin's mouth were ones Fenrys had never heard said by her, not before and, he knew, not ever again.

"Tell me who I should write too."

"Write too?"

"Write too. For help."

**So... yep. You'll see more of Fenrys and Aelin soon,**

**Toodles!**


	7. 9 Rhys

**Hello, friends! I'll make this quick. Sorry for the short chapter; they will get longer again soon. (I do know that every chapter is very short. Blame homework, not me). Sidenote here - this story was started at the end of 2018, and I haven't written any new material for this story since March 2019, so in the upcoming newer chapters the writing style will most likely be different. **

**Disclaimer: I'm not Sarah J Maas and I do not own any of the characters mentioned. **

**Without further ado, back to Rhys...**

Rhysand collapsed into bed. Freye was downstairs, still in the kitchen, processing everything he had told her. It had been physically hard to force the words out of his mouth, but Rhys had told Freye - in stuttering stops and starts, true, but he had told her - everything about his childhood and the brother who had saved him in more ways than one. His darling mate had been nothing but comforting and patient, but he knew that inside, she was likely to be freaking out - he could sense her confusion and sorrow through the bond. Not anger, though. That was one thing that surprised Rhys; not once ounce of anger travelled though the bond, and he had seen none on her face when he had kissed her before leaving the room.

Rhys was glad he had told her, and yet it still felt as though it was a secret he would never get out. _Well, you tell one you might as well tell them all._ Sighing at the fact that, even though he knew what he should do, what he had to do, he didn't want to do it, Rhys went downstairs and gathered up Mor, Cassian and Azriel. He found Mor in her room. The dreamer had been looking especially gaunt recently, and as Rhys knocked on her door he made a mental note to check up with her - after he put things right and told her everything. Apparently, Rhys had not realised how late it was; Mor slept soundly, and Rhys was glad that she was not plagued by haunting nightmares as he so often was. Knowing that she kept a knife hidden under her pillow and would not hesitate to use it should she suspect she was under attack, Rhys chose to wake her by sending a wisp of dark wind to whisper against her neck. Mor stirred, emitting a girlish squeal.

"Mor."

"Mor, I need to tell you something. Wake up."

"Morrigan."

Sighing, Rhys turned back towards the stairs; although he had decided to finally tell his court about this part of his past, it was so ingrained into him to hide it that he felt relief settle in his chest. No secrets need be told, if Mor would not wake. At least, Rhys reminded himself, for now.

**That's all I've got for Rhys. I'll post again on the 3rd (or something like that. I know that like 5 people read this and I'm not very constant when it comes to updating, so sorry about that.**

**Ta Ta For Now! (I'm sorry I just really love saying that.)**


	8. 10 Feyre

**Hello, friends! Sorry for the wait. *Me, last chapter: I'll post on the third! :)* **

**_laughs in procrastination _**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned and I am not Sarah J Maas**

**Without further ado..**

Freye lifted her head from the hard kitchen table, blinking and stretching her arms above her head. The watery light of dawn filtered though the cracks in the heavy wooden shutters; she must have fallen asleep, after Rhys had told her… everything. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stood, the memories came rushing back to her.

_"His name is Fenrys." Her mate's voice was filled with a combination of longing and grief. The way he looked down at the ground, shoulders caving ever so slightly inward as they only did when he was lost - he was embarrassed. It broke her heart to see him like this - ashamed of his past, of being weak. She was his mate. He should never feel this way around her. Rhys had left her there, allowing her to process it all, but the only thought that was in her head was, Rhys has a brother. Or he had one. But they were not actually brothers, just best friends who were like brothers. _

The whole mess must have been so confusing she had fallen asleep right there and then, Freye decided, rubbing at the imprint the kitchen table had left on her cheek. Standing up, Freye pure herself a glass of water, and looked at the window set high in the wall. It had been left open and a biting draft tickled that back of her neck. Judging by the position of the watery sun that once again making it's endless journey across the sky, it was just past dawn. Rhys would be asleep still. She could go upstairs and climb into bed with him, and fall sound asleep beside her mate. They would sort all of this out in the morning. Immediate plan of action decided, Freye half sleep-walked up the stairs and into bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.


	9. 11 Rhys

**Hello, friends! I'm back! Immediately!**

**The last chapter was so short let's just get right into this one :) (they'll get longer soon I promise)**

**Disclaimer: I am not Sarah and I don't own ACOTAR or TOG**

**Without further ado...**

Rhys tried not to move as Freye tumbled into bed. He had not been able to sleep after trying to wake Morrigan, and had lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, for most of the night. Freye was soon snoring softly beside him, and despite himself, despite _everything_, Rhys felt his lips curl upward at the sound. He lay still as the hours passed, letting Freye sleep. Eventually, he heard Azriel's soft voice and Morrigan's louder, albeit hushed, one. As coming down now would entail too much effort - both physically and mentally - Rhys waited until Cassian's voice joined them in the kitchen before standing up and dressing silently. They would sort everything out. He knew they would. Just because his past was not in the open doesn't mean that it would change anything. Except, that letter, the letter he had burnt, the letter Freye now knew about. It's contents, the plea for help, felt banded across Rhy's eyes. He would have discounted even that, would have said his last goodbye - again - to his brother, had a little kernel of his magic, the part that had gone dead and silent the day Fenrys had left, not awakened.

Rhys shook his head at himself. There were too many variables. He would take one thing at a time. Wake Freye and sort out things with her, if need be. Then go downstairs, and decide what to do next. He sat at the edge of the bed and stroked Freye's hair gently, looking at her beautiful face, her bulging belly. One thing was clear in Rhy's mind. If they did go, once again headed for war, blood, and sleepless nights, the Freye and the son she carried would not be going with them.

As he continued to slowly wake Freye up - in no way did he want to hurry - he thought over all he had hidden. It wasn't even a big deal, it was just… personal.

**We're jumping back to Fenrys now bois**


	10. 12 Fenrys

**Hello, friends! Things are getting a bit more ~complicated~ in the next few chapters so please stick with me!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Sarah J Maas and (as always) I do not own the characters **

**Without further ado...**

Fenrys stared at the tired queen that stood before him. "For help?" He was in shock. He knew he was in shock. In the weeks he had known Aelin, she had never once asked for help. Never prayed, or screamed in frustration at her lot in life. She put her head down and soldiered through, planning and scheming. To hear her say this, now… they must be in worse shape than he had thought. Aelin rubbed at her eyes; one of the few expressions of defeat she would show. "We need allies; we need weapons and supplies. But most, we need soldiers. Even at my most powerful, I would never be able to make a dent in the fleet Maeve is surely sending our way, even with Rowan, Dorian and Lysandra helping me." Fenrys' jaw clenched. He said quietly, "You have much more help than Lysandra and Whitethorn, Aelin. You have me, Aedion, and the rest of the soldiers. We may not have magic, but we have steel. And you of all people know how effective that can be." Looking up from her letter, Lysandra met his eye - and there was nothing human in her stare.

Walking further into the room, Fenrys asked, "Who have you written to so far?" Lysandra sighed. "Everyone we can think of. Unless you know of some secret army?" Fenrys froze. Memories threatened to escape their place, tucked in the depths of his mind. Memories…memories of a sudden, brilliant smile. Of winnowing though a war camp. Of crying, leaving… wanting to turn back but not daring… Fenrys opened his mouth, not quite knowing what would come out. "No. Nobody." The words sounded strange in his mouth, like it was a lie. It felt like a lie; those memories were proof that it was. "Fenrys?" Lysandra's voice was softer now, more questioning. It had always been said that shifters were the most perceptive. Now he could see just how true that was. His chest was tight. Fenrys rubbed at it absentmindedly and chewed on the right way to answer Lysandra's probing, concerned question.

_There is someone. I know there is. Someone… someone with power. Or someone who had it, or will have it. So why can't I remember?_

Fenrys met the shifter's inhuman gaze before looking at the broken queen standing before him, proud and regal as she admitted to weakness.

"No one." Aelin sighed and rubbed at her eyes again. Fenrys couldn't help but notice that her beautiful Ashvyer eyes looked beautiful even when she was tired. "Thanks anyway, 'Rys. Can you - can you keep this between us? The others don't have to know yet."

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